Safe Passage
by SarahSerendipidy-OliviaMaestro
Summary: Many things happened whilst Ragnar was in Kattegat... Some of them left scars. Mentions of crucifixion. (set during The Choice).


Dawn was breaking over the horizon. The camp was rustling with activity; everybody was busy packing the boats.

Athelstan heaved a bag of supplies and sleeping gear onto the deck, moving aside as his crewmates followed suit. He was stumbling slightly in his black priest gown. It caught onto almost anything, much to the annoyance of many Vikings.

Nice and suitable for book keeping, he thought. Perhaps not on ships.

He stumbled upon land, lifting up in the gown to avoid falling over. Floki whistled at him and cackled, but continued his work on filling the boat.

Their leader, O Ragnar, was busy packing the boats too. Athelstan caught his eye briefly before moving along. However, in his distracted moment, the gown finally caught upon a spear sticking out and he tripped directly onto the ground. Large bursts of laughter emerged from the Vikings, and Athelstan imagined it might've looked quite entertaining, however annoying it was for him. A pair of rugged boots appeared before his face and he looked up at Ragnar's gentle blue eyes. He was still chortling, but held out a hand to lift the man up.

"Thank you," Athelstan murmured and gripped his hand, heaving himself up. He looked down his now dirty gown and brushed at some of the mud. Needless to say, it didn't help much.

"Let's get you some proper clothes, hm?" said Ragnar, and slipped an arm around the priest, leading him towards one of the last standing tents.

"I'm afraid I don't have much else," Athelstan replied, but followed.

Ragnar made a dismissive sound and pushed the priest inside.

There was little light inside, only a small bonfire in the middle. Most of the items were removed, leaving a few reindeer skins draped over a log, a few custom made stands for weapons (minus the weapons), a makeshift table that consisted of a piece of wood with a small icon of Njord, God of the Sea, and a burnt out candle next to him.

"Here, take this," said Ragnar and threw a bundle of clothes into the tent.

Athelstan caught it in a swift movement upon turning around. There was a pair of pants, and a long, blue woolen tunic. He looked up at Ragnar.

"These are yours."

"Yes?" the Viking replied, half challenging.

"Nothing, I- ... Thank you," he murmured, and smiled.

Athelstan turned his back to the man and placed the bundle on the log. He bowed down and grabbed the hem of his gown and lifted it over his head gently. His ribs and arms were still sore, even though it was weeks since... He pushed the memories away and reached for the pants, quickly slipping them on. He glanced over his shoulder and found Ragnar staring at his back. He looked worried.

"You have many scars since I saw you last," he noted quietly, moving through the tent. The fire left a soft hue on his features.

Athelstan didn't reply.

Ragnar reached out towards him and the priest flinched slightly. The Viking noted this and wished endless curses upon whoever harmed him. After giving Athelstan a moment, he traced his fingers across the scars. He took a step closer and brought his fingers up along his shoulder, then his temple, following his hairline slowly, softly. He noted the small, almost invisible scars along his front head and frowned.

"You should not look so worried," said Athelstan. He reached up and held Ragnar's hand against his face, leaning into the touch. "It belongs in the past."

"What did they do to you?" Ragnar asked, almost pleadingly. Athelstan's eyes flicked toward the fire, avoiding the Viking's piercing look.

"Remember when you first took me away from Lindisfarne?"

Ragnar nodded.

"Remember you saw my God, Jesus, hanging upon the cross?"

Ragnar nodded again, but his forehead was creasing and he disliked where the explanation was going.

"I-" he begun, "They... Captured me... And..."

Athelstan struggled to finish the sentence, clenching his jaw.

"The bishop told me," he murmured. "He told me it would happen."

"What?" asked Ragnar, trying to duck in front of Athelstan's face and catching his eyes. "That what would happen?"

Athelstan's gaze returned to Ragnar's and his mouth opened to explain but shut after a loss of words.

Ragnar grabbed his hands and held them between his, facing the palms upwards. Huge round scars were placed on the middle.

"I thought I was going to die. I thought... I don't remember all of it. There was pain. When they first started hammering, Ragnar, I-... I wanted to die," he said, his voice breaking toward the end.

"I was so alone."

God had left me, he thought. You had left me.

Ragnar traced his rough, calloused thumbs across the scars on the priest's hand.

"Did King Ecbert do this?" he asked, and there was so much maliciousness in his voice, so much anger.

"No," Athelstan answered quickly. "No, Ragnar... he saved me. They were going to kill me, and he spared me. Had it not been for him…" he trailed off.

Ragnar nodded slightly. He looked at the priest again and he could swear the Viking's eyes were glassy.

"Why didn't you come with me back to Kattegat?" he murmured and continued rubbing his hands.

Athelstan smiled sympathetically.

"You know I wanted to," he said softly.

Ragnar knew, of course he did. But there were so many regrets, so many thoughts of "what if" that haunted him. He let go of the priest's hands and moved over to briefly touch the idol of Njord and murmured a few words. Athelstan wanted to comfort him in some way, but didn't know how. He barely knew why he even wanted to console the Viking in the first place. It made him uneasy to see Ragnar so unhappy. He smiled for himself, musing over the irony of feeling protective of his original captivator.

On the other hand, the Vikings never nailed iron to his hands and feet.

The fire crackled in the quiet tent.

"I will see you at the boat," Ragnar said, gave a short nod and left Athelstan alone. On his way out he brushed the priest's shoulder, a small sign of solidarity.

He reached for the tunic and caressed it, feeling the rough fabric. He noticed that not all parts of his hands could feel it. It seemed awfully dark in the tent now. The shadows at the edges of the small room crept closer.

Athelstan slipped the tunic over his head and savored the smell. He looked at the icon of Njord.

"Grant us safe passage," he whispered and left the tent.

Psst:

. /c4fca2b23560b8c8d107bf0cb0bccfa8/tumblr_n4arz6byF71twajcmo1_

They really did share shirts.


End file.
